


Dick and Jane Go To the Prom (but not together)

by finnglas (mjules)



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Multi, silly domestic fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2015-12-14
Packaged: 2018-05-06 15:49:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5422898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mjules/pseuds/finnglas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Surely even Blue and the gang deserve to have a normal teenagery existence on occasion, right? Well. Nobody told *them* that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dick and Jane Go To the Prom (but not together)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [millepertuis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/millepertuis/gifts).



> Dear recip, thank you so much for your prompt. I was so excited when I opened my assignment and saw you wanted domestic poly OT4! I hope I did it even a tiny bit of justice.
> 
> Thanks to J, M, and I for helping me every step of the way with this fic.

Finding Ronan Lynch required a psychic -- not that Blue was one, or could ask any of the ones who lived with her. A really good detective might have also worked, but the problem was that she could have located him at any point -- Gansey or Adam, even Noah, might be able to tell her where he was, except for the tiny little detail that she didn’t want them to know she was looking for him. They might have asked why, and she couldn’t tell them, and then they would get curious or their feelings would be hurt or --

No, it was better if she just found Ronan herself.

It would have been so much easier if he would just bother to check his phone every now and then.

“I swear to God, Lynch, I’m going to teach you how to use your phone,” she said when she finally caught up with him a week later, dropping her bookbag with a thud.

“I know how to use it,” he said flatly. “What is it, maggot?”

She took a deep breath and braced herself. “I need a favor.” When his only response was to raise one sharp eyebrow and tilt his chair back on two legs, she wrinkled her nose and forged on. “I need a prom date.”

His scoff was lost in the sound of his chair legs thudding back to the ground.

“No, hear me out.” She huffed out an exasperated sigh and squinted at the far side of the sunny school library where she’d finally found him waiting for Adam to show up. _Thanks, Noah, for the tip_. “I don’t give a damn about prom, but Mom is on this thing about how she almost missed all the big events of my high school life, and…well, I can’t tell her no.”

Ronan’s grunt was one of understanding. _Yeah, okay, your mother almost died in a weird, timeless underground cave, so I can see why you’re stuck._

Thanks, Ronan.

“Why don’t you ask --”

“I’m not asking Gansey.” Because haha, no. She could go without killing someone at her prom, thanks very much. “And after everything with Adam, it’d be kinda weird.”

“--literally anybody else.”

She leveled a flat stare at him. “Who. Noah?”

Ronan shrugged as if to say it was a decent choice, never mind all the people who would see her dancing with nobody all night. “Don’t you know anybody at your school?”

She sighed. “Come on, Ronan. You are literally the least awkward choice available to me. And that’s saying something.”

He grinned, one corner of his mouth pulling up like the jagged edge of a broken bottle. “Do I get to --”

“You do not get to tell Gansey or Adam or even Noah, no.”

“--pose for awkward pictures before we go to the dance?”

She balked, and his grin sharpened.

“I’m sure your mom wants pictures of you in your prom dress.”

She groaned. “Probably, yes.” Blackmail material for the rest of her life. Thanks, Mom.

“Well then, sign me up, buttercup.”

 

* * *

“What do you mean she asked you to prom!”

Gansey had the sense somewhere under his indignation that he was being unreasonable. He understood perfectly well why Blue couldn’t have asked him or Adam, and he understood that she was doing it for her mom -- and honestly, Gansey thought Maura deserved to have a few wishes granted after the last few months she’d had -- but it was just… _Ronan?_

“I didn’t even think Jane liked you that much.”

Ronan shrugged. “I think that was part of the appeal.”

“But she didn’t want us to know,” Noah said softly from nearby, barely visible. Gansey hadn’t even realized he was there.

“Nah.” Ronan scratched the back of his neck, scrubbing his palms over the fuzz of his hair. _It’s growing back in_ , Gansey thought idly, and noticed Adam watching too, had the surprising thought that Adam had never known Ronan without a shaved head.

“I think it’s more that she didn’t want to _sound_ like she wanted us to know,” Adam put in, and Ronan twitched an approving kind of smirk at him. _You got it, smartypants._

“Well, there’s really only one solution to this problem,” Gansey decided, admiring Ronan’s slouch, the careless way his sweater hung on his frame. Gansey was too clean-cut to look like that; he just came off looking tired or… rumpled. “Adam, what are you doing May sixth?”

Adam blinked, lips parting in surprise, but it was Ronan who said, “ _What?_ ”

* * *

“You can’t wear that to prom,” Orla huffed. “You’re going to look back at your pictures when you’re sixty and think, _Why did anyone let me leave the house with nuclear-sized holes in my tights_?”

“Probably not,” Blue said calmly. _Probably I’m going to look back and think why the hell didn’t I just ask Richard Gansey the Third._

Honestly, aside from Orla offering unsolicited opinions on her choice of clothing, Blue wasn’t having as terrible a time as she’d thought she would. It was kind of nice, in a way, to forget about the horrible things that had happened and pretend she was normal. Funny, she thought, how at the beginning of the school year she’d been thinking how boring school was in comparison to hunting for dead kings and dreamthings and disappearing forests. Funny how a few gruesome brushes with death could change things.

“You should at least wear nice shoes,” Orla tried again, and Blue looked down at her combat boots, then at Orla’s platform sandals with a significantly raised eyebrow.

“You can wear whatever you want, hon,” Maura said, wrapping Blue in a sideways hug around her shoulders. “I know prom’s not really your thing, but I’m glad I get to see you go.”

“It’s not so bad,” Blue said, a little embarrassed. _I’m glad you get to see me go, too._

Orla shrugged. “Whatever suits you, I guess.” The phone started ringing downstairs, and Blue found herself wishing that Orla would go answer it. But then it stopped ringing, and she could hear Calla answering it all the way through the floor. “So which one of your harem did you ask to go with you? Or did you ask all three of them?”

Blue was gratified to see Maura give her an odd look, but Orla had managed to keep her voice light enough that anyone who didn’t know about their earlier conversation wouldn’t know why Blue frowned at her.

“I don’t really --”

“BLUE!” Calla yelled from downstairs. “PHONE’S FOR YOU. IT’S THAT SNAKE BOY.”

“Sna--?” _Oh. Ronan._ “I’m coming, Calla!” Blue called back, and then she ducked out of the room so she wouldn’t have to see Maura looking baffled and Orla looking smug.

* * *

“Do you think he’s actually going to try to match her dress?” Adam asked idly as they waited outside the principal’s office. "I have a hard time imagining it."

“I…really don’t know,” Gansey said, and he sounded distracted, one knee bouncing with pent-up energy, but the minute the office opened, he was on his feet, smiling like he was running for office, smooth and polished but still candid.

“Hello, Mister…Gansey, is it?” the principal said, looking confused. “How may I help you?”

“Yes, hello.” Gansey’s smile was stunning, his Aglionby uniform pamphlet-perfect, and Adam remembered for a moment what it was like to feel dingy beside him. He hadn’t had that feeling in a while. Not since…Cabeswater. “I’m Richard Gansey the Third. I attend Aglionby Academy with my friend here, Adam Parrish. We’d like to speak to you about the possibility of a joint formal between Mountainview High and Aglionby.”

Adam paid close attention to every word, every thrust and parry -- from the appeal for understanding ( _“Aglionby is very insular, and we’d like to reach out to the community”_ ), to the dangling carrot ( _“My mother has mentioned that she’d like to make local education part of her campaign, and is interested in investing several thousand dollars in meritorious schools...”_ ), to the threat of the stick ( _“...and I’m sure she would be disappointed to hear that a same-sex couple was denied entry to your event.”_ ). By the time it was over, he heard himself volunteering to help Gansey with the ticket sales on the Aglionby campus.

“Thank you; it’s been a pleasure,” Gansey said at the end, shaking hands so persuasively Adam wanted to vote for him. “I look forward to the first annual MAPS.”

 _Mountainview-Aglionby Prom Swap_. He even had the goddamn name.

“Well,” Gansey said, grinning at him as they left the office, roll of tickets in his hand. “What color should we go with for our tuxes?”

* * *

“I need to buy tickets to Blue’s prom,” Ronan said, flopping into the metal folding chair beside Gansey, the hinges creaking under him. “Since apparently you’re selling them now.”

Gansey _would_ be the one to change the entire policy of two schools just to attend prom not even _with_ Blue Sargent but just in the same room at the same time as her. _Jesus,_ Ronan thought. _What a Dick move_.

“Sixty dollars,” Gansey said, and Ronan handed over a hundred dollar bill.

“I want my change in quarters,” he said, and Gansey handed him a two twenties with a flat look. “No, seriously. I do need it in smaller bills. I want to get something out of the vending machine.” When Gansey didn’t take it back from him, he put the bills in Gansey’s shirt pocket and got his own change. “Make sure you count that good,” he called over his shoulder.

“Ronan!” Gansey yelled after him. “What did you do?”

When he came back, Adam was counting the cash for Gansey, and Gansey sat with his arms crossed over his chest. Ronan slouched into one of their metal folding chair, propping his feet on the table, chewing his candy bar defiantly when Gansey poked his combat boots.

“Do you have to put your feet up here?” Gansey sighed, and Ronan just grinned at him, caramel nougat and all. “I’m having enough trouble keeping all this cash straight.”

“I’m kind of surprised you’re so bad with money, Dick,” Ronan said, popping the lid on his soda.

“It’s because he never has to think about it,” Adam muttered from where he was bent over the metal cashbox, sorting bills into piles. “He didn’t even know he needed to have basic change to start with.”

Gansey shifted uncomfortably in his chair, scowling at both of them. “I usually just use my debit card for everything,” he grumbled. “Cash is obsolete.”

Adam shook his head, but he was smiling, and Ronan huffed a sharp laugh, derisive but at the same time admitting his hypocrisy on the matter. Adam frowned at the money on the table, recounted the fives and the ones.

“Well, cash may be obsolete, but you’re still short five dollars,” he said, and Gansey bolted upright in his chair.

“What? How?”

“Told you,” Ronan said smugly, and Gansey was still staring at the money when Adam glowered over at Ronan.

“Give it back, Ronan,” he said, and his voice was such a magical tangle of commanding, fond, and exasperated that Ronan had to pause for a moment just to gather himself. “C’mon.”

“All right.” Ronan shrugged and set the open soda bottle and half-eaten candy bar on top of the cash. “There you go.”

Gansey gave him such a wide-eyed, helpless look that Ronan just cackled and pushed himself to his feet, shaking himself out like a boxer about to step into the ring.

“Have fun, boys,” he said. “I have to go figure out something to wear.”

* * *

The promised awkward photos weren’t as bad as Blue had imagined. Ronan had leaned down to whisper in her ear -- _“Maybe you can ask Glendower to erase these pictures as your favor”_ \-- and she’d laughed, and Ronan had grinned, and the resulting picture on her mother’s ancient Polaroid camera and Orla’s cell phone had been… charming, actually. Delightful. And something she’d never want erased, to her surprise.

Ronan had showed up, to her everlasting surprise, in an actual suit, with a blue pocket square. She’d flicked the silk square with a flat, “Ha,” and he’d just shrugged. Her dress wasn’t far off, actually, soft sheer blue fabric with shiny silver underneath, and he’d bumped her heel with his, grinning at their matching boots.

Maybe it hadn’t been such a weird thing after all, she thought, going with Ronan. _Thanks, self._

“I’m actually kind of a shit dancer, unless they start playing Irish step,” he admitted to her as they walked out to his car, and she shrugged.

“Does anyone actually go to prom because they’re a _good_ dancer? Personally, I plan to just stand against the wall looking aloof and resentful.”

“Is that allowed?” Ronan teased. “Won’t they force you to participate for state scores or something? No Child Left Behind?”

“Didn’t you hear? They finally got rid of that.” _Thanks --_

Ronan laughed. “Thanks, Obama.”

* * *

Adam couldn’t believe his palms were actually sweaty. It was the most ridiculous thing. _It’s Gansey_ , he told himself, _and it’s going to be fine_.

He still didn’t have a tux, but he had the suit he’d worn to DC, and he’d combed his hair kind of obsessively in the mirror, and he’d thought about Ronan saying _Maybe I dreamt you_ and he’d thought, _If Ronan Lynch dreamt me, I can’t be that bad._

Which was kind of shit logic, considering the kind of nightmares that regularly followed Ronan out of his sleep, but then Gansey was knocking on his door and he didn’t have time for second-guessing anymore.

It made him feel better that Gansey looked a little nervous too, rocking back on his heels and offering him the shy, real-Gansey smile, not his politician face.

“I, uh, hope you don’t mind,” Gansey said, tugging at the cuffs of his sleeves. “I got you a boutonniere.” He held out a single white rosebud on a pin, a subtle and expensive-looking thing that matched the one already on Gansey’s lapel. “It felt weird not bringing anything at all, so…”

Adam didn’t know what to say, so he mumbled, “Thanks,” but it worked just like a magic word because Gansey’s expression cleared with relief, and he barely glanced up for permission before he pinned the flower on Adam’s jacket.

“Thanks for…coming with me,” Gansey said, patting down the fabric where the pin had made it pucker, and Adam thought maybe he heard something else in that too. _Thanks for not ditching me even when I have crazy ideas or want to dig up dead kings or sneak into your ex-sort-of-girlfriend’s prom._

And Adam said “Of course,” because what else was he going to say? “It’s not like I could let you go by yourself.”

Gansey grinned and offered his arm, and Adam snorted but slipped his hand into the crook of Gansey’s elbow anyway. _Well why the hell not, I guess._ Weirder things had happened.

* * *

As proms went, it wasn’t awful. Blue wasn’t sure she’d known what to expect -- movies couldn’t be trusted and didn’t agree anyway -- but it mostly consisted of a lot of awkward teenagers awkwardly dancing and chaperones looking vaguely bored.

And -- what the actual fuck? -- two more Aglionby boys than she had invited, three if she counted Noah hovering by the punch bowl.

“What the hell are they doing here?” Blue demanded, looking around Ronan at Gansey and Adam like Cabeswater had just spawned in the middle of the gymnasium.

“Dancing, apparently,” was Ronan’s supremely bored answer.

And they were. Gansey’s hand on Adam’s waist, Adam laughing like he was halfway between shy and gloating, matching flowers on their lapels.

But -- “What the hell are you _doing_ here?” she hissed, sweeping up to them.

Adam visibly swallowed, but Gansey didn’t let go of him. “Dancing, Jane. Haven’t you ever seen dancing before?”

“Yes, but how are you dancing _here_? You don’t even go here!”

“We don’t even go here,” Gansey informed Adam with a serious face, but Adam had the grace to look sheepish.

“Aglionby doesn’t really have any formals,” he told her, “so Aglionby students were allowed to buy tickets to Mountainview’s prom.”

Well at least Blue could feel better about not recognizing half the people here.

“Was there a Dick involved in this?” she asked flatly, and Gansey winced. “That’s what I thought.”

Ronan wedged himself in between them, elbows intentionally everywhere, and drawled, “Well, while you two talk about whatever it is you never talk about, Adam’s gonna teach me all the cool new dances the kids are doing these days.”

Blue sputtered, but out of the corner of her eye, she could see one of the chaperones wandering their way, looking concerned, and she didn’t feel like having to explain that no, she was all right, these nice young men weren’t bothering her. She put her hands on Gansey’s shoulders, frowning because it felt like something she shouldn’t like as much as she did, and the look Ronan gave her over Adam’s shoulder was insufferably smug.

 _Well,_ she figured with a sigh. _It’s not raining and he’s not wearing his Aglionby sweater, so he’s probably not going to die tonight._

“It’s only dancing,” he said quietly, and for once she didn’t feel like fighting it, just nodded and let him sway her a bit. “I am sorry, though.”

“Don’t be.” She let her fingers curl into his shoulders just a bit, a flutter at the warmth of his skin through the fabric of his jacket. She wondered, for a moment, why he hadn’t worn a tux -- surely Richard Gansey the Third owned at least one -- until she realized he matched Adam, who probably _didn’t_ own one, and she had to lay her head against his shoulder to keep from leaning up to kiss him.

 _It’s stupid how perfect this is_ , she thought, watching Ronan and Adam dancing next to them, almost like the four of them were dancing together. It felt right, like they should have all come together in the first place. It felt like maybe after this, she’d dance with Adam and Ronan, and maybe even Noah if he felt like it, and maybe at the end of the night they’d all pile into the Pig and go for ice cream together.

For one night, she promised herself, she was going to stop worrying about the sword hanging over their heads and believe it could be this good forever.

 


End file.
